


Fire touched

by FedonCiadale



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/pseuds/FedonCiadale
Summary: Jaime was wounded in the battle of the Goldroad and Tyrion rescued him. Tyrion hides his brother even though he has gone with Daenerys to Winterfell. Tensions between Daenerys and the Northeners run high and the reemergence of Jaime Lannister might be the last thing anyone need, anyone save Brienne of course.Meanwhile Sansa desperately tries to hold everything together, while Jon tries to cope with the reveal of who his parents are.





	1. Jaime I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wightjon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightjon/gifts).



> This fic got way out of hand. Originally I wanted to write about 3 chapters... Now there are ten... But I managed to wrap it up. It is my contribution to jonsasecretsanta2018 over at tumblr and is for wightjon!  
> This is not a Dany friendly fic. I repeat. This is not a Dany friendly fic. So, if you don't like Dark Dany or clueless Dany, just don't read.

When he greeted Tyrion from the shadows at the window when his brother entered the room his voice sounded still raspy and did not sound like himself at all. Jaime stood, but had taken care that he was so far inside the room, that he would not be seen. The last days had given him plenty of opportunity to look at the castle yard. Tyrion’s guest chamber, where Jaime stayed in hiding, was the same it had been so many years ago on their first sojourn in Winterfell. But it did not look the same. Lady Sansa had taken great care in the rebuilding of Winterfell, but being twice taken by enemies had reduced the castle’s furniture somewhat. The chair did not match the table and the bed.

“What are you going to do, brother dear? What further tortures do you have in tow for me? As if putting me in the bilge of a ship was not enough, you brought me to Winterfell of all places.”

Tyrion rounded on his brother.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Leave me somewhere in the care of a maester? Put me out of my misery?” Jaime had wanted to die on that field. _Dying while fighting a dragon. That would have been worth a song_.

“As if any maester wouldn’t know who you are.” Tyrion sounded vexed. “I just need to find someone who can be trusted.”

“Someone who would not tell the queen you chose for yourself that you harbour the man who tried to kill her, her and her dragon.”

Jaime shook his head. “Honestly, Tyrion, what made you band up with her?”

Tyrion let himself fall on the chair.

“You shouldn’t even be out of bed, brother, let alone should you speak or pester me about my choices. Queen Daenerys made me her hand and promised me Casterly Rock. And it was mostly me who persuaded her and Jon Snow to become allies.”

Jaime went to the bed and turned the burnt half of his face from Tyrion’s view. He didn’t hobble any longer, but everything was tiring. He was in pain, but that was not why he snorted.

“An uneasy alliance, if I ever saw one,” he remarked. “From what I could see in the yard, tensions are high.”

“We could have gotten a warmer welcome here in Winterfell”, Tyrion admitted.

“And I only saw two dragons, isn’t Daenerys supposed to have three?”

Tyrion’s mood soured. “Why don’t you just go back to bed and stop asking questions?” _There is a problem there._

Jaime lowered himself to the bed.

“Since you won’t just put me out of my misery, I want to gain some of my strength back.” The short walk from the window had caused his breathing to quicken, but this was getting better every day. Jaime’s face tightened, when he winced.

“What are your plans, Tyrion?”

“I told you, we need to survive these ice monsters. I hope that I’ll be useful despite my lack of battle prowess and that if all this is over, we can put pieces back together. I told you all. Jon Snow bent the knee, the North is in the fold of the seven kingdoms again, and we will all fight against the threat from the North.”

“You should know our sister better than that. I don’t believe Cersei will send a single soldier.” _Cersei. Half of me wants to get the next ship to join her again and half of me wants to never see her again._ He remembered the ruins of the sept. He remembered his feeling of loneliness, that he would never understand his sister, his lover. The feeling that had made him attack the dragon.

“She promised.” Tyrion said curtly.

“But there is no debt.” Jaime mused.

“What?”

“There is no debt. A Lannister pays his debts, but Cersei owes Daenerys nothing. You might as well admit that you have doubts.”

Tyrion’s temper flared. “Yes, I admit it. I have doubts. Are you satisfied now?”

Jaime just looked at him, his eyes boring into his.

“I fear that Cersei not sending soldiers might not be the only problem we have.”

Jaime remained silent, but he did not break eye-contact with his brother.

“Something is off. Queen Daenerys has taken Jon Snow to her bed, but since we arrived in Winterfell, he has shunned her bed. She is getting impatient and he makes excuses…. Like ‘The Lords must not know about us, they are suspicious anyway.’ Or ‘There is not time for this. We need to rally our troops. There are no news from the wall.’ You could almost think that Daenerys was an ugly old mare the way he keeps avoiding her. I trusted him to influence her and nudge her towards the right decisions, but if he keeps going on like that, he’ll lose any influence he ever had. She is getting very impatient.”

“And?”

Tyrion frowned at his brother. Jaime shrugged.

“I do know you.”

“The Dothraki are not equipped for this weather. The dragons need food, we all need food and in this we are totally dependent on Lady Sansa. Lady Sansa is courteous enough to Queen Daenerys, but a glacier is warm in comparison.”

“And?”

“So the Northern Lords are grumbling, Jon Snow, our Warden of the North buries himself in work, the Dothraki are bound to kill somebody these days, Lady Lyanna Mormont has yet to exchange words with her uncle Jorah, Queen Daenerys is treated this short of insolence.”, Tyrion raised his fingers to indicate a very small space between his thumb and his index finger. “… while everybody defers to Lady Sansa – which does not improve the Queen’s mood.”

“Sounds like you have much to juggle.”

Tyrion shot his brother an angry look.

“And yet this is not all.” He looked around, as if someone could hear him. “Happenstance or maybe ill luck, I don’t know what, has brought one person to Winterfell who might prove far more dangerous, than his amiable nature suggests.”

“Who?”

“Samwell Tarly.” Tyrion whispered. “Queen Daenerys killed his father and brother after the battle of the Goldroad. You know the battle where you got injured. I could not prevent her killing the Tarlys. But Samwell doesn’t know yet, but he is bound to learn about it any time. And he is a fast friend of Jon Snow.”

“Well, I see. What is your plan?”

“Hoping that the bad weather will hinder the ravens to fly, hoping that nobody from our party sings this little story to Samwell. Hoping that our enemies attack and bind us together before it all blows up in my face.”

“A really sound plan” Jaime snorted.

Tyrion closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I hope that I will come up with something, if I could just think in peace…. I swear if I have to sit in another council meeting with Bran and Arya Stark, I’ll go mad.”

“So, they are a problem as well?”

“Bran is simply unnerving. Half of the time he doesn’t seem to listen at all and goes into some kind of trance, and half of the time he seems to know things, he should not know. He throws in guest, and guest right just often enough in my hearing to be unnerving. And Arya…. “ he paused.

“She is such a small girl, but she always fiddles with this Valyrian dagger, and it actually looks like she could handle the thing. She was the one who killed Littlefinger.”

“A good deed.” Jaime said.

“I’m not sad, he is gone.” Tyrion admitted, “but that dagger is driving me insane.”

Jaime lowered himself to lie on the bed and closed his eyes.

“If all blows up in your face, I won’t be much of a help, you know. You might as well have let me lie there and let some Dothraki cut my throat.”

“I’m not going to let you die. And if I have to hide you for the rest of your days. At least you’re healthy enough to argue with me.”


	2. Brienne I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne, Sansa, and Arya are talking about their current problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit of an in-between, but there are some things that are important for later!

Brienne stood alert, her back always to the Stark sisters, circling them, just in case. They had convened at the weirwood tree for fear of too many ears in the castle.

“I hate her,” Arya said, not for the first time. “We should just throw her out. She struts along, as if Winterfell belonged to her, she behaves as if Jon’s time belonged to her.”

Sansa shook her head impatiently. “Arya, we’ve been through this. She has dragons. She has Dothraki. She has Unsullied. I don’t like her very much either, but her men and her dragons might be the difference between life and death.”

“You can be insufferable rational,” Arya said. “Just let me vent some of my anger here. I promise I’ll be all smiling and nice when I see her next.”

Sansa laughed.

“Yes, your smile is more flashing your teeth at her, and fiddling with your dagger is not exactly suited to let you seem nice.”

“I want that dagger handy in case she or some of her lapdogs tries something.”

“And I’m glad you have it handy. I swear Lord Tyrion eyes your dagger with fear. It is almost comical.” Sansa smiled. “But Jon bade us to try everything to keep the peace. As things stand now, I have the feeling no hour goes by without someone fetching me or Davos or Tyrion to smooth over some fight.”

Brienne looked with worry at Lady Sansa. She was driving herself hard, and for some reason the King – no, the Warden of the North – was of no help. He always seemed to be busy, supervising catapults and other machines for the war, training recruits, teaching soldiers about how best to attack wights, but Brienne had the feeling that he was pretending. He kept himself busy as if he wanted to avoid thinking.

Brienne could relate to that. Ever since she had heard that Jaime had vanished after the battle of the Goldroad, sleep was eluding her. If she had heard right, he had attacked Queen Daenerys on her dragon and had fallen from his horse. But nobody had seen him afterwards. _The fool._ He might have survived though. A tiny flicker of hope was still in her heart.

She shook herself and concentrated on telling Sansa and Arya what she had observed.

“Queen Daenerys would be more amiable, if the King, I mean Lord Jon would spend more time with her,” she remarked.

Arya shot her an angry look.

“Even more time? I’ve never seen him alone since he got here. She’s all over him and he smiles and compliments her. It’s revolting.” Arya’s voice was high-pitched with anger. “Not that **I** want to speak to him. I’m still so angry with him. He just gave up the North.”

Sansa laid a hand on her arm. “We must trust him. He said there was no other way to make her come to our aid but to bend the knee. I must admit that her familiarity with Jon worries me as well, but we don’t know if there is anything true about these rumours.” Strangely, blood raised to her cheeks with her last sentence.

Brienne cleared her throat. “I don’t think he wants to be with her. He avoids her as best as he can.”

Both sisters looked at her surprised, Arya with a frown, Sansa with still flushed cheeks.

“He avoids her?”

Brienne nodded. “Just yesterday, he told her he had urgent business with Maester Samwell, and then I saw him descending into the crypts.”

Sansa frowned. “Now, that you mention it, I saw him going down the day before that as well. Maybe…,“ she hesitated.

“Did she follow him?”, she wanted to know, her voice strained.

Brienne shook her head. “No, he made sure he was alone, and I saw the Queen later with that girl Missandei.”

A small sigh escaped Sansa’s lips and Brienne looked at her sharply and wondered why Lady Sansa was so concerned.

“Now, that I think about it, he seems to avoid everyone, or at least he seems to avoid being alone with anyone. It is as if he has a secret or a worry he feels he can’t tell anyone about.”

Arya and Sansa were looking pensive.

“You might be right, Brienne. He only talks food, storage, training, clothing with me,” Sansa admitted. “But I thought this was because there are so many things to do. I barely have time for anything. I should be checking the kitchens right now. What about you, Arya?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Arya admitted reluctantly. “I’ve been doing my best to avoid him. If I would be alone with him, I probably couldn’t help myself and shout at him.” She hung her head.

Sansa touched her arm. “You really should try to understand him.”

“But what was he thinking? This Dragon queen here, here in Winterfell and he promised our troops for her to win the throne after the war!”

“He probably thought that he should make sure, that we survive this war first.”

Arya bit her lip, looking sullen. “So you’ve told me several times, Sansa. And about every one of the lords. But so far, her grace of many titles has only increased our problems. The Lords are uneasy, the Dothraki are ready to fight just about anythinh, the dragons are hungry, and the Unsullied are miserable and cold and Jon decides this is the moment to retreat and brood in the crypts.”

“I thought that you were quite happy not to talk to him.”

Arya shot her an unreadable look. “Yes, but what is the point of moping and being angry with him, if he does not even realise?”

They all had to laugh at that.

Sansa was the first to become serious again. “If Brienne is right and he has a secret worry and knows something and thinks he cannot trust us, he is in trouble.”

“It is probably not a question of trust. He probably wants to protect his sisters. I would say, he thinks it is dangerous.” Brienne suggested.

“He should know better than to try to protect us,” Sansa sighed. “When will he learn that we must stick together?”

“What could preoccupy him?” Arya asked. “Would it help to ask Bran?”

Sansa shrugged. “We might as well try, but I doubt it. Bran is so cryptic nowadays. Just this morning I asked him, if he had any visions of when we should expect an attack. And he stared at me for some time and then mumbled something about ‘the obvious answers might be wrong’. As advices go this is applicable to many situations, but was no help in this case. But he looked so troubled that I did not have the heart to insist.”

“I’ll do some sleuthing,” Arya suggested. “I’ll disguise myself and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“I don’t like that, Lady Arya,” Brienne protested. “If it is so dangerous that Lord Jon hasn’t told you, you might get yourself killed while looking for what worries him.”

Arya was not to be gainsaid. “I will get to the bottom of it. I’m tired of hearing all the titles of Queen Daenerys anyway and Lord Tyrion might welcome a break of looking at my dagger.”

Brienne opened her mouth again to protest, but Sansa was faster. “Arya, I know you’re really good at disguising yourself. But I don’t want you directly sleuthing after Jon. Try to find out what the trouble is, but remember that he might have a good reason not to share it.”


	3. Sansa I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon finally talk about his plans for the future.

Arya had made off immediately, but Sansa had stayed behind, gesturing to Brienne that she wanted a few moments of peace. But it was not to be. She had barely put her hand to the weirwood and closed her eyes, not to pray, but to empty herself of the thoughts that kept turning in her head, when she heard a noise. She opened her eyes and saw the girl that was an interpreter for the queen. Brienne glared at her, angry that she had managed to interrupt Sansa.

Sansa sighed and turned to her. “Yes, Missandei?”

“Lady Sansa, there is a problem where it seems only you might be able to help us.”

 _Why don’t you ask your queen or my busy brother?_ But she didn’t voice that aloud. Sansa let her arms fall and joined Missandei.

“Another fight?”

Missandei shook her head. “Lady Sansa, you know, we do not know this cold. Before I came to Westeros I had never seen this snow.” She gestured at the white snow around them.

Sansa nodded.

“I know we can’t possible all find place in the castle, but some of the Unsullied….” She hesitated. “Some of them are ill, and they need warmth and comfort. Maester Wolkan and Maester Samwell are treating everyone as good as they can, but …” Missandei bit her lip.

“We made a schedule so that everyone can sleep in the hall and inside once in a while. And the Freefolk showed them how to build shelters with snow. Is that not sufficient?”

Missandei again shook her head, clearly unhappy.

“I think some might be more ill than they care to admit.”

“Take me to them, then, and I’ll see, what I can do.”

On their way back to the castle they met Jon who was trudging along in the snow. Her treacherous heart took up a beat and Sansa chided herself. _Don’t think about him that way. He is your brother!_

She tried to calm herself and looked at him and tried to see what Brienne had seen. He did look very tired. His eyes were shadowed and his face wore the frown that seemed to be plastered to his face perpetually since he had returned. No, not, since he had returned, he had been happy then, since he had talked with Bran on his first evening back at home, secluded in Bran’s room.

 _Maybe he does not avoid me because he knows about my depraved feelings? Maybe there is something else?_ For the first time Sansa allowed herself to have hope.

Jon had stopped and inquired after their business, and Sansa was glad to have him by her side when they made their way to the camp of the Unsullied. For the first time since Jon had come back, she was clearly happy in his presence. If it was something else that preoccupied him…. Maybe he was not so disgusted with her that he avoided her, maybe there was nothing about this rumour about him and the Dragon queen. _Maybe I am allowed to have this at least. Jon and me together, even if it is only running Winterfell._

She smiled at Jon, suddenly relieved that the Gods might be good enough that she could have this, the company of the man she loved. And Jon even smiled back, but lowered his eyes immediately, as if he had been caught stealing pies.

It was easier when they walked side by side. Sansa felt her cheeks burning, but she made an effort to talk about everything that had come up today. Jon worried about the lack of news from the Wall and they were deep in conversation as if slipping into a habit. Sansa was happy to hear Jon’s voice, to have him ask for her opinion and to talk to her. From time to time she glanced at him and once or twice she thought he looked her way as well. When they reached the camp of the Unsullied, her cheeks felt hot. Sansa hoped nobody would notice or that they would blame the cold air.

Some of the Unsullied were indeed quite ill, and Sansa immediately ordered them to be brought to the castle. One of them obviously was the one Missandei worried about the most. Jon loudly declared that the sick men could have his room, and that he would sleep in the hall with the other men. ‘ _He doesn’t want to be alone’. Maybe Brienne was right. Maybe Jon would trust me with his troubles?_

Sansa left a visibly relieved Missandei and Brienne behind to supervise the transport of the sick. Jon still was at her side when she made her way back to the castle and blessedly for once nobody was near. For the first time in days, Sansa felt comfortable. It was easier to talk while walking side by side. Sansa felt as if Jon was a warmth at her left side, that made her feel better.

“There has been so much to do, Sansa. I never thanked you properly for backing me when the Northern Lords protested against my alliance with Daenerys.”

“You are welcome. I know that we must deal with the White Walkers first. But I should probably warn you that they are not happy that you pledged to help Daenerys when she fights for the throne afterwards.”

“There might not be an afterwards.”

“I understand that Jon and believe me, I used that argument in several talks with the Lords, but if there is an afterwards, there will be a problem and you know that. It all depends on if Queen Daenerys manages to win them over to be honest.”

She glanced Jon’s way and met his eyes, when he looked at her as well.

She felt it was the right time to address some things Jon needed to know. The Gods knew when she would have the opportunity again. She was never sure if Tyrion Lannister hadn’t placed some spies in the castle.

“The way she has been going, it is not likely she’ll succeed. Arya is quite vocal about her dislike when we are alone and so have been some of the other Northern Lords. She has not endeared herself to anybody here. Her way might have worked in Essos, but here in the North…. I’m sorry, you seem to like her, but you have to know.” _I don’t know if like is the right word, but I can hardly ask if he sleeps with her…_

Jon scoffed. “Believe me. I think I know already. I have seen the disgruntled looks, the pointed mentioning of the shortage of food, of the dragons that eat too much, of the Dothraki and Unsullied more likely to freeze than to be of use. I know exactly what she is. After all I was her very special guest on Dragonstone for months.”

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat and resumed its pace, but much faster. _So, he doesn’t like her?_

“I hope there is a solution to the problem of what to do afterwards.” He looked at the ground and stopped in his tracks. Sansa stood as well. Jon fell silent for a while and Sansa felt her tension grow and her stomach tightened. _Is this his worry, the heart of his unease?_

“I might not survive the war.”

“I know, we all might not survive. But please don’t say that.”

“If I don’t survive it will be all up to you.”

“Only if I survive.”

He looked up and his eyes found hers.

“I plan to name you my heir, before we go to war. Bran has made it clear, that he doesn’t see his role as Lord. He is the bloody three-eyed raven and knows just about everything.” _Was there a hint of bitterness in his voice?_ “I know you will lead the North well. You did well in my absence.”

Sansa was getting angry. “I don’t want to rule the North alone, not in your absence nor even worse if you don’t return.”

“We don’t always get what we want.” He sounded so sad, that Sansa wanted to cry.

“Let’s just assume for a moment, that you don’t die.” Sansa said. She could hear that her voice was strained, and she was tempted to shout, but that would probably attract listeners.

Jon gave her a sad smile. “If is suits you, let’s assume I don’t die. I hope, that the dragons will be useful against our enemy. Their fire is effective. But they are not invulnerable, and we already lost one dragon. Bran says our enemy can be defeated although he is frustratingly vague on the details. I hope that if we defeat the White Walkers we might have one or two problems less.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes. “You hope, that the White Walkers and the dragons cancel each other out. And that we will have less Dothraki and Unsullied to be worried about.”

“Bran remarked something, that this might be possible.”

“What about Bran sharing his wisdom with us as well?” Sansa asked, her frustration winning over the need to share plans with Jon.

Jon reached out and touched her arm. Sansa thought she could feel his fingers through all the layers of her clothing and for a short moment all thoughts fled her.

“Don’t be angry with Bran. I bade him to not tell anything he saw to anyone else but me. I don’t trust enough people and I suspect Tyrion already has spies.”

“He sure has. But why not tell me? Or Arya. Surely you can trust us.!” Sansa’s thoughts had returned, and she felt hurt.

Now, Jon was getting angry. “Arya doesn’t talk to me and I’m talking to you right now. I could have tried sooner, but everything Bran said…. “ he stopped.

Sansa drew a deep breath. “Please, you are right. This is a good chance. Carry on.” She wanted to know what his plans were. She needed to know.

“So, hopefully, if we defeat the White Walkers, our problems will be reduced. If I don’t survive it is up to you to manage Daenerys’ claims to our allegiance. And even if I survive, it will be you. I plan to abdicate. I…. “ he stopped and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I never really had any claim to Winterfell.”

Sansa got riled up all over again. She took up walking again to get her anger under control.

“Jon, would you please stop? We’ve been through this. You are a Stark, to me, to Arya, to Bran. We need a leader in the wars to come. Your plan is to abdicate? So, that you can leave me with this….” She looked at him exasperated. “… mess? Don’t you dare!”

“I’ll be always yours to command.”

“But, Jon, I don’t want to command you. I want you to be here with us and get what peace we all can. I don’t want to do this on my own.” She hesitated, reluctant to share a truth she had long accepted for herself but never told anyone. “I’m better if I work with someone. Littlefinger wanted me to become a queen, aloof, powerful, but also alone. That is not what I want.”

“You don’t understand.” Jon said, he sounded frustrated.

“Then explain.”

“I never bent the knee, not literally, but still I myself would try to hold to the oath Daenerys thinks I swore. But if I abdicate, you have no obligation at all.”

“Which would not help us, if Daenerys and her dragons and her Dothraki and Unsullied are still here.”

“I’m sure you are clever enough to find a loophole even in the unlikely case Daenerys’ strength is not reduced because of the war against the Walkers.”

“But our strength will be reduced as well.”

“That is why we must look for other allies.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you suggest?” Sansa asked, her voice strained.

Jon nodded. “The Lannisters.”

“You can’t be serious. You may believe that Cersei has pledged her troops to our cause, but if any of them show up, I would be very surprised.”

“No, you said so yourself, we can’t trust Cersei.”

Sansa felt like a cold hand was reaching for her heart. Tears welled in her eyes. Suddenly all her strength left her, and she wondered how all her happiness could have vaporized in an instant.

“You want me to renew my marriage to Tyrion. You cannot be serious.” She felt betrayed.

“No, Sansa, no.” Jon’s genuine distress made a wave of relief wash over her, that felt like a warm breath on her skin.

“I would not want you to marry against your wish. I just want you to think about how you can prepare….”. He searched her eyes. “…how **we** can prepare for after the war.”

The swinging of her emotions left Sansa feeling like she was in desperate need of air.

“We would have to do Tyrion a great favour or something,” Jon mused. “I’m sure you can think of something.”

“That is helpful advice.” Sansa remarked, but she smiled. “I’ve already told Arya that she should stop fiddling with her dagger in council. That should make Tyrion more amiable.”

“Don’t forget to tell him, that it was you”. Jon gave a short laugh, that sounded genuine. “Did you see the face he made at Arya?”

They both laughed and the happiness that had fled Sansa so easily earlier settled on her shoulders again.


	4. Arya I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya has dones some sleuthing and Sansa and her decide what to to with the secret she discovered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters update today! I want to have it all published by Chrismas eve, so I'm going to publish two a day! Still for jonsasecretsanta2018 over at tumblr.

Arya had taken on the face of the girl that had served her so well at the Twins and did her duty serving drinks in the hall in the evening. She itched to tell Sansa about her discovery, but she would need to bide her time. Arya used the opportunity to observe Jon for the first time since he had returned, and she had decided that she would rather avoid him than shout at him.

He was sitting next to the Dragon queen and Ser Davos was sitting on his other side. Daenerys was talking to Jorah Mormont at her side, openly flirting with the man, while Davos was chatting with Sansa. And Jon just stared into his ale. _He really does look moody. He has circles under his eyes, and he looks so sad and forlorn._ Several times Daenerys shortly turned her attention from Jorah Mormont to speak with Jon, but even from afar Arya could see, that it was for naught. Jon nodded curtly and resumed his search for wisdom at the bottom of his ale cup. For the first time, since Jon had brought Daenerys to Winterfell, Arya felt a pang of remorse about being so harsh on him.

Arya studied her brother so long that she earned herself a cuff on the head and hurriedly began busying herself with serving again.

Her opportunity came when Bran retired. Bran had been seated on the bench and there was always much movement when he was moved to his chair with the wheels. Arya sneaked in until she was just at Sansa’s ear.

“Mylady, no one awaits you in your chambers. You should have a look.”

Sansa’s eyes widened just a tiny fraction, but she had herself well under control. She stood up and volunteered to bring Bran to his chamber and announced her own retirement. Everyone at the table bade her sister farewell in a reverent manner that would have driven Arya mad with anger a couple of weeks ago, before she and Sansa had finally ended their differences.

Arya could not help herself, she had to smile at the sour look Daenerys shot Sansa when even Lord Tyrion joined in the slightly exaggerated round of well-wishing. She was relieved when the dwarf sat down again. He should definitely not meddle tonight.

Arya herself stayed for a while until she was able to slip away.

She took the servant girl’s face off and met Sansa in her chambers and dragged her along all the way to Lord Tyrion’s chambers. A small candle in Sansa’s hand lit their way.

“These faces give me the creeps.” Sansa remarked. “I almost screamed.”

Arya laughed. “No, you didn’t. You expected me. Remember I’m good at detecting lies.”

“Did you ask Bran what Jon is so moody about?”

Sansa sighed. “Honestly, half of the time, he doesn’t make sense.”

“What did he say?”

Sansa imitated Bran’s voice. “It is not for me to tell. Not now at least. There might be a time when I have to tell.’ And then he stressed that he is busy training, and his eyes rolled and I couldn’t talk to him.”

“How very useful.”

They had arrived at Lord Tyrion’s chambers and Arya unpacked her lockpicks.

“I realised that Lord Tyrion takes care to lock his chambers and you will not believe what or rather whom I found there sleeping.” she said in a low voice.

“Don’t tease, please tell.”

The lock gave way with only the barest of clicks.

“Jaime Lannister, who has been missing since the battle of the Goldroad, here under the very nose of Queen Daenerys. I think Jon didn’t want to tell us, because he probably thought I would kill him.”

“And would you?” Sansa whispered-

“Of course not. I didn’t kill him at the Twins, either. I just want to use his presence to our advantage.”

Arya opened the door and let them both into the chamber. Ser Jaime stood in the middle of the room, looking out to the courtyard. The flickering candle let his shadow dance on the ceiling and the wall, as if he was bathed in flame.

“I hope you did bring some wine,” he said and turned.

His reaction when he saw them was fast for a clearly still injured man, but Arya was faster. He had not managed to jump at his sword, that stood at the bedside, before Arya had drawn her dagger.

Ser Jaime’s shoulders slumped as if in defeat, but Arya was not fooled. She could see, that his stance was still alert.

After they had stared at each other for a while, the Kingslayer raised his hands, palms faced towards them.

“Ser Jaime,” Sansa acknowledged him as if she was at court.

“Lady Sansa” he answered bowing slightly, a gesture that would have looked ridiculous in any other man, who was just in his shift, yet, he did it gracefully.

“It looks like we came to the bottom of a secret.” Sansa said.

“How long has Tyrion hidden you here? Did you already arrive with him?”

Jaime nodded.

“And the Queen never noticed?”

“Tyrion hid me amongst the wounded of the Tyrell army that had bent the knee.” He gestured at his face. “And I look different.”

Sansa and Arya studied him. The light from the one candle was not good, but Arya could see now, what she hadn’t seen when she had found him sleeping and lying on his right side. The hair at his right side had burned to a stubble and the right side of his face was burned as well. It looked as if a fiery hand had given him a slap. If he had lain on his other side, Arya would not have recognised him.

“Did you even see a Maester?”

Jaime shook his head and shrugged.

“It doesn’t really matter. It is Tyrion who wants me kept alive.”

Arya looked at Sansa’s face. She was deeply in thought.

“You are in grave danger here, Ser Jaime,” she finally said. “If Queen Daenerys finds you here, you are as good as dead. I heard her talking about the man who attacked her dragon.”

“So, why not deliver me to her? Or to the Northern Lords who want me dead?”

He turned to Arya. “Just slit my throat and be done with it. You look as if you know how to use that.”

Arya looked to Sansa. “Not without a trial. And there is time for that after more pressing matters,” she told Jaime.

Sansa nodded in approval.

“I would not deliver you to Queen Daenerys. She might give you to her dragons, and this is a death I would not want for anyone. As for the Northern Lords…. “

Sansa smiled, a slow smile, as if she had a good idea.

“The question arises if saving me would cancel out the enmity between Stark and Lannister.”

“How did I save you?”

“You sent Brienne of Tarth to save the Stark daughters and she did. And Brienne is already well liked here in Winterfell”.

Arya nodded in approval.

“Brienne is here?” Jaime asked. His voice sounded strangely pressed.

Sansa tapped her lips with her fingers.

“A time might come when your experience in fighting a dragon might come in handy.”

Arya shot her sister a questioning look. Sansa raised her eyebrows very quickly and made a gesture, that told Arya that she would let her in on that later.

“As for now, we have to move you. I overheard the Queen telling her Hand that she wants to discuss a problem in private. You must be away by then.”

Arya shot her sister a sharp look. Tyrion had sat at the other end of the table, there was no way, Sansa could have heard anything. She had some plan with this Lannister who had fallen into their laps.

“We have to put him somewhere, where Daenerys will never look, at least not uninvited.” Arya remarked. “And other people should best not meet him either. What did you do when the chamber maids came to clean?”

“Tyrion told them to leave his chambers alone.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Such an inspired evasion. I wonder why nobody was suspicious before this.”

“For the moment, he is safest in my chamber. Brienne or you can guard him inconspicuously.” Sansa suggested.

Sansa took care to remove any traces of Jaime’s presence and took his sword which was good Valyrian steel.

Jaime protested when they abducted him and led him through the corridors, but he could hardly raise an alarm. He cursed at Arya under his breath and said something about she-wolves, but he had not to be prodded too much. Arya wondered about that.

They arrived safely at Sansa’s chamber and hurried Jaime in.

“You will sleep in my bed, and I will move to Arya. I am very sorry, but I will give your sword to your guard.”

She bade Ser Jaime to sit at the far end of the chamber and Arya quickly looked for something to tie him with. When she had fastened Ser Jaime to the bed, she went over to Sansa who stood at the other end of the chamber. Arya’s eyes locked on Ser Jaime, while Sansa whispered in her ear and told her about Jon’s plans.

Arya felt as if Jaime even from the other side of the room could see her eyes becoming wide in bewilderment. Jon wanted the dragons and the Dothraki and the Unsullied to fight against the Night King. So far, Arya and Sansa had guessed his intentions, but Arya almost laughed when she heard that Jon had not really bend the knee and that he planned to abdicate if it ever came to him fulfilling his promise. _I could have known though. Jon would never betray the North._

She frowned about the plan to look for allies for after the war. Arya’s eyes did not leave Jaime, but when Sansa told her that Jon must have known about Jaime, she shook her head.

“That doesn’t make sense” she said, maybe a bit too loud.

“I thought that this must be what he thought was too dangerous to tell us.” Sansa whispered. There was a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“If he wants us to come to an agreement, why not just tell you?”

Sansa sighed. “You are right. But what is it then?”

 “We’ll find out.” Arya laid her hand on her sister’s arm. “Meanwhile, I’ll go and fetch Brienne. And she’ll watch over the Kingslayer.”

“And then you can come to my chamber and get some sleep.” She added. Sansa was working herself too hard.

Arya giggled and when Sansa looked at her questioningly, she said: “Lady Sansa has a man in her chambers. I promise not to tell anybody though.”


	5. Jon I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon does what he does best.... Brooding. Why is he so upset?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've filled this fic with some of my more ridiculous headcanons and fic preferences, one favourite being JealousJon.

Ghost felt his unrest. He was laying at Jon’s feet, but he did not lie still, not for long anyway.

 _‘Mylady, no one awaits you in your chambers. You should have a look’._ What in seven hells was this supposed to mean? That cursed servant girl that had whispered in Sansa’s ears. If there was no one in Sansa’s chambers why should she look? And Sansa had departed almost immediately. Jon’s eyes were searching around the hall. Who, who was in Sansa’s chambers? He wrecked his brain if he had seen any man giving unduly attention to Lady Sansa, but in his mind, every man gave her unduly attention and a part of him knew that this was just his jealousy imagining things.

 _When I left Winterfell to get the dragons, I was so sure I could leave this behind me. But it’s worse than ever._ Being away from Sansa had not helped at all, even sleeping with Daenerys had not helped. Jon suppressed a shudder. _My aunt._

His heart ached with his knowledge. He had no right to be jealous, no right at all. Yes, he was Sansa’s cousin, not her brother, but officially he had to stay her brother or the fragile alliance with Daenerys would surely shatter. Jon shuddered for real this time when he imagined how Daenerys would react to him being the heir to the Iron Throne. _Sansa wants me to survive the war. The way she looks at me… If we survive and the dragons die, I could tell her I’m her cousin. I could try to woo her then._ He resolutely shoved the thought away. It was no use, there were far too many “ifs” in that scenario.

Bran had warned him about the danger of Daenerys learning of his parentage, and Jon was sure that Sam and Bran would hold their mouths. Bran had not given him much hope, though. _‘Prepare for the worst, Jon. It might come down to it, that she stands against us, against the North, against everything you hold dear. Then you have to fight her, and you have to use your claim.’_ Jon still hoped, that it might not come to that. Bran urged him to try to get a connection to the dragons. So far, Jon had avoided that. _What if these beasts like me indeed? Would that make me more my father’s son._ He shuddered again. _Ned Stark was my father in everything that is important._

He shook himself out of his brooding, afraid that Daenerys might guess his thoughts. She wouldn’t like him contemplating betrayal. He made a valiant attempt to engage in talk with her. He complimented her white dress that was slashed with red. _Like Blood on snow._

He told her about the shelters the Freefolk had helped to build for the Dothraki and how he trained with all the groups of their fighters to coordinate the arakhs of the Dothraki, the swords of the Westerosi and the spears of the Unsullied. Jon could not have said, if she was really interested, but she seemed to be happy with his attention. When he told her that he had talked with the Unsullied about dragonglass spears she briefly touched his hand and it took all his willpower not to recoil.

 ‘ _Mylady, no one awaits you in your chambers’._  The voice of the servant girl that sounded so oddly familiar echoed in his head. ‘ _You should have a look’._ Jon curved his lips to a smile directed at Daenerys and carried on telling her about his preparations.

“So, your Grace, you see I am quite busy getting your and my people ready for this war.”

“I admire your energy, but surely, you can rest once in a while.” She raised her eyes to his and Jon realised with dread that she had set ideas about his rest.

“There is always something new,” he evaded her unspoken invitation. “Just today Missandei asked us to help some sick Unsullied.”

“Us?” Daenerys asked with an edge to her voice.

“Lady Sansa and me”.

“Ah, the Lady Sansa. You seem to have time for her.” Now the edge certainly had a vexed tint to it.

_Curse her suspicious mind._

“We met at the godswood.” Jon explained.

Daenerys seemed to be somewhat appeased.

“Oh, your godswood.” She waved dismissively. “I guess if you listen closely enough you hear the gods’ whispers in the leaves of any tree.”

Jon bit his cheek to keep from saying anything. He waited a beat before he trusted himself to speak again.

“We must keep the men in good health. So, I assigned them to my chambers for better rest.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Jon knew that his anger had made him blunder. Daenerys face lit up and Jon could only prevent her taking his hand by rapidly reaching for his goblet and almost knocked it over. _She will expect me in her chambers tonight._ His thoughts were swirling but the only clear thought that entered his head was the voice of the servant girl.

_‘Mylady, no one awaits you in your chambers. You should have a look.’_

Jon smiled at Daenerys, shoving the voice away.

“Nobody must know, we have to be careful” he said in a low voice.

Jon wondered if he would be punished if he wished for news from the wall. If there were news from Castle Black, he probably could avoid joining Daenerys for another night, but there had been no news since Edd Tollet had sent some men who were too injured to fight any longer, requesting for fresh soldiers. He wished for this time of waiting to be over. He wished he could fight someone, even if it were wights. He wished he could recall his father from the dead to ask him questions. _No, not my father, my uncle._

 _‘Mylady, no one awaits you in your chambers._ _You should have a look.’_

He simply could not take it any longer. With no clear thought about what he wanted to do, Jon stood up. _Surely there is no harm in checking on my sister before I go to bed?_

Before he came to his senses his feet had already taken him to Sansa’s chambers, Ghost at his heels. His heart pounding, he pressed his ears to the heavy wooden door, his cheeks burning with his shame, but it was as if he had no control over himself. At first, he heard nothing but the rush of his blood in his ears. It was only when his heartbeat had slowed down a fraction, that he heard voices. There was Sansa’s voice, musical and soothing. _If I listen long enough just her voice might heal me._

But then there was another voice, a deep male voice, and Jon thought he heard the word “love.” His mind became blank and before he knew what he did, he banged the door open and entered in a rush. Somehow Longclaw was in his hand.

In Sansa’s bed, _in Sansa’s bed,_ there was a man who was only in his shift, and Sansa held out a cup for him. Sansa herself was clothed, but Jon did not care.

“Who are you? What are you doing in Sansa’s chambers? In her bed?” His sword was at the man’s throat and it was only when he saw into his frightened glittering eyes above Longclaw’s blade that Jon recognized Ser Jaime Lannister, even if one half of his face had clearly been injured by fire.


	6. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell is lose in Sansa's chambers.

When Arya had left, Sansa had come to him and sat on the side of his bed. Jaime eyed her warily and was surprised when she unfastened the cloth with which Arya had bound him. Her blue eyes felt like a heavy weight, when they met his.

“Brienne will be glad, you live.”

“Do you think so?”

“She was devastated when we learnt that you have gone missing in the battle of the goldroad.”

He had last seen Brienne at Riverrun. The fog of the river had almost swallowed her, but he had still seen her raising her hand.

“It seems Brienne and I are destined to be on different sides.”

“Are you now?” Sansa asked.

Jaime gave a short laugh. “My own brother hides me. Although he is Hand of Queen Daenerys he still fears that she would not give me a pardon. And your brother bent the knee, he accepted her, didn’t he?”

Sansa nodded. “But yet, this is Winterfell, and I am the Lady here. It is true that we need Daenerys and her dragons, but she also needs us. Her army would be close to starving if it weren’t for us.”

“From what I saw from the window of Tyrion’s room the tension is as taut as a bow-string.”

“Ser Jaime, let’s not beat about the bush. I would not trust you. I would not trust any Lannister, but Brienne told me that you saved her and that you let her leave King’s Landing to save Arya and me. For her sake I’m willing to give it a try, but only if you answer some questions.”

“Ask me.”

She inhaled as if thinking about her questions. “Why did you do that? Why did you try to save Arya and me if only by sending someone else.”

She was not the girl on the verge of womanhood he had seen in King’s Landing, the reluctant wife of his brother Tyrion, but a grown woman. Jaime did not think that he could lie to her easily.

“When your mother released me, she wanted to exchange me for her daughters. I gave her my word. Your mother was dead, but I didn’t want to pretend that I had spoken my words to the wind. I wanted to keep my word, for once in my life.”

“Cersei wanted me as well.”

“Cersei thought that you and Tyrion killed Joffrey. I always suspected that you had nothing to do with it, nor had Tyrion.”

Sansa nodded. “It was Olenna.”

They both were silent. _What was the sense of it all? Joffrey dead, my father dead, Olenna dead, the Blackfish dead. I’m so tired of death. I wish I was dead myself, my love for Cersei buried._

“Did your brother tell you that Cersei promised to bring troops to our cause.”

“Yes, he did.” Jaime answered warily.

The next sentence hurt when the words left his mouth. “Whatever your bastard brother showed her at their parley, I doubt it makes any difference. She will not send any troops.”

He felt light-headed after he had confessed that. He had told Tyrion about his suspicions often enough, but somehow admitting it to Sansa felt different.

It was as if a sluice gate had opened. He could feel tears raising in his eyes.

“She never was inclined to think about any other person than herself. As long as she sits the throne, she won’t care. If the North is weakened with this war, she would be glad. If I know her at all, she probably put the gold we took from the Tyrells to good use and bought mercenaries, but not to help you.”

“No, but to defeat whoever becomes the victor. It might mean that we lose an edge that could be crucial.”

Jaime wiped his eyes and could not help himself. A strange voice escaped his throat, that sounded much like a wail.

Sansa looked at him, her eyes not unkind.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have loved her for all my life, undoing that seems impossible.”

“Ser Jaime, I do not judge you for your love.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t think we can choose whom we love. We can choose what we do about it, though.”

Jaime looked at her, fascinated. _How different from what Ellaria said._

“I would not ask you to stop loving her, but I would ask you to stop supporting her.”

Jaime suppressed the keening sound he felt building up in his throat.

“I almost wish that I could stop loving her. It hurts so much,” he whispered. _It had hurt so much that he had tried to kill himself by attacking a dragon._

Sansa smiled at him then, her eyes full of an understanding and a compassion he had not expected.

“What would you want me to do? I’m not exactly fit to fight,” he asked her.

“Are there any troops that might follow a man of house Lannister if you would decide to bring them in?”

“I could try to rally the troops in the Riverlands.” Jaime mused. “But you would have to let me go and I doubt I could give any oath you would trust.”

“You would not go alone.”

“Who is going to come with me, your dagger-fiddling sister?”

“No, Brienne.”

Jaime swallowed. “Brienne.”

“Do you like her, Ser Jaime?”

“What does that have to do with this?”, he asked, but he nodded all the same.

“I would trust you to fulfil your oath, if she goes with you. The last time she accompanied you, you fulfilled your oath, after a fashion.”

“That is because she makes me want to do better,” Jaime admitted.

“Does she now?”

“I’m thinking constantly on what she would do, what she would approve of. So yes, if you send her with me, it would be a guarantee that I work with you. What I feel for her….” he paused.

“You know you might call it love, after all,”. The admission made him chuckle.

The door banged open and a very angry Jon Snow stormed in. Before Jaime knew what happened he looked at Ned Stark’s bastard above the blade of a sword. His white direwolf stood at his side, his teeth bared. He was ranting, demanding to know what Jaime did in Sansa’s chamber and Jaime was too surprised to answer anything. In the face of Jon Snow’s rage his Lannister wit had fled him, and he stared in shock. _The boy is unhinged. What is up?_

He should not have been surprised that it was Brienne who saved him. She and Arya entered the chamber mere moments after Jon.

What followed was an intense shouting match. Jon repeatedly demanding what Jaime Lannister of all people was doing in Sansa’s chambers. Arya yelling at Jon to stop shouting, to stop making noise and ruining their plan, Brienne trying to match their noise with demands of silence while edging her way towards him to protect him from the enraged Warden of the North. The direwolf did not make any sound, but was clearly agitated. By now surely the whole castle must wonder what the ruckus was about.

It was only when Sansa laid a hand on Jon’s arm, that the boy finally calmed down. She let her hand wander and took his hand in hers.

“Jon,” she said, after he had calmed. “I thought this is what you wanted?”

That seemed to enrage him again.

“What I wanted? When I told you, we need an alliance with the Lannisters, I didn’t mean you to hook up with the Kingslayer?” His voice almost toppled over.

“Hook up? Are you daft? I thought you knew, Tyrion hid him here. Arya has just found him about an hour ago.”

Jon Snow slumped. “I had no idea he was here,” he whispered.

It all clicked for Jaime then. He thought about what Sansa had said about love, the uncontrollable rage in Jon’s eyes. He couldn’t help himself, he began to laugh like a madman.

They all stared at him. When his mirth had left him, he gasped for air.

“Look at you! Everything started with Cersei and me and our fear of discovery and here you are, the honourable Starks trapped in the same kind of messy love.”

He could see that he had struck home. Jon’s face became as pale as a sheet, Sansa’s flushed. Brienne’s eyes took on a very thoughtful hint. It was only Arya who looked bewildered.

Jon and Sansa abruptly both took a step to separate themselves and Sansa let go of Jon’s hand. Jaime could not contain his glee. “You didn’t even know!”

Their awkward silence was interrupted by further visitors.

This time it was the Queen herself and Jaime’s heart dropped, when she, his brother and her guards entered the chamber. _So much for Queen Daenerys not coming to Sansa’s chamber uninvited._

“Lady Sansa, what is up, are you in any danger?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has another one of my favourite headcanons. Jaime catching up on the vibes between Jon and Sansa. I just couldn't resist....


	7. Brienne II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes through a myriad of emotions, while everybody makes an effort to save Jaime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a note of caution. This chapter has not so much DarkDany (this a bit) but most of all it has clueless Dany. If you don't like that, don't read!

Brienne had gone through a myriad of emotions within a short span of time. First, she had been overjoyed to learn that Jaime was alive, then she was afraid, that Jon would hurt him, then she was embarrassed about his observations on Jon and Sansa. But this all paled to the felling of her dropping heart when fear sank in as Daenerys entered the room.

Her hand was still on the hilt of Oathkeeper and she wondered if she would be fast enough if Daenerys ordered Jaime killed. She could take one of the Unsullied down surely, but Jaime would only stand a chance, if Arya and Jon would join the fight, and Brienne doubted that. Her hands became slick with sweat and her heartbeat drummed in her ears. _Some of the clever people should think quickly._ Her eyes sought Tyrion, but he seemed to be frozen in fear as well.

Brienne looked at Sansa entreatingly. She should not have worried. Sansa stood calm and collected.

“My Queen, how very considerate of you to worry about my safety! But there was no need.”

Daenerys looked at her questioningly, her eyebrows arching at the visible tension in the room.

Sansa smiled her sweetest smile.

“Your Grace,” she took the Queen by the hand. “May I introduce you to Ser Gerion Lannister, uncle to your Hand, Lord Tyrion.”

“Uncle Gerion?” Lord Tyrion cried out.

 _My clever Lady._ Daenerys looked taken aback as if unsure what to make of this. _Just believe this, just believe this._

“I’m afraid Ser Gerion is still not entirely well, so you must allow him to stay abed.”

She gave a short giggle, that would have fooled Brienne if she did not know Sansa better.

“You have found me out, your Grace. I kept a secret from you, and I’m very sorry for that. But please hear me out. When Ser Gerion arrived with the wounded of Castle Black, I did not know your generous heart yet, not as I know it now.”

Daenerys continued to frown, but gave Sansa a gracious nod. “Pray continue!”

“You might not be familiar with the story of my uncle,” Tyrion interrupted. “He was my father’s youngest brother and left Westeros decades ago to journey to Essos. I am very surprised to see him here. I’m overwhelmed with joy really. He was always my favourite uncle.”

Tyrion edged closer to the bed and gave Jaime an awkward hug.

Jaime cleared his throat. “I travelled even beyond Essos. I skirted the ruins of Valyria.”

“A brave adventurer”, Arya ventured and nodded.

Daenerys looked questioningly at Jon. Brienne was dismayed to see that he still had a bewildered look on his face. She barely caught the glint in his eye.

“I am as surprised as you are, my Queen. I am as curious as you are about the story behind this. I must admit I accused Ser.. “ he coughed. “… Gerion of dishonourable intentions.”

Jaime reacted fast.

“Pardon my manners, my Queen. I would bow to you as you are our hope against the dark that comes. I was already on my way back to Westeros. I wanted to write a book on what I have seen in the ruins of Valyria…. “ He raised his right hand. “or rather dictate my journey to an obliging scribe.” His smile was rueful.

Brienne almost fainted. How could Jaime direct Daenerys’ attention to his lack of a hand. But Daenerys nodded impatiently. _Does she not know about Jaime’s hand?_ Was it possible, that Daenerys had not heard about this?

“In Oldtown I came across an ancient manuscript with prophecies.”

“The prophecy of Pate the Wise?” Sansa asked.

“Exactly,” Jaime answered. “There is a prophecy about a lady of fire, who will save the world against the ice threat. I went to Castle Black to find out more.”

“Ser Gerion and I were just discussing that this prophecy must allude to you.” Sansa put in.

“I’m not in the best of states as I was wounded when we fought the wights at Castle Black, but I’ll pledge to help in the wars to come and be a steadfast ally.”

Queen Daenerys looked at her Hand for reassurance. Tyrion nodded vigorously.

“Any help is welcome,” she finally said.

“Your grace,” Sansa laughed nervously. “In a way I am so glad you came here. I have been wondering for days how to address the case of Ser Gerion with you. I was so insecure about this. But you truly showed your good heart. And I should not have been afraid.”

She bent down and placed a kiss on the Queen’s hand. “Gerion volunteered to go to the Riverlands as soon as he is well enough and fetch the Lannister troops scattered there.”

 _Oh clever Sansa. It worked._ Brienne never had felt prouder in her life.

But her relief had come to early. Daenerys narrowed her eyes. She turned to Tyrion. “You know, that we talked about how we could bind the seven kingdoms and the rivalling houses closer together.”

Tyrion nodded, his face guarded.

“You did not want me to address the question of renewing your marriage to the Lady Sansa, but we talked about marriages.”

Jon Snow gasped, Tyrion got flustered and Sansa stiffened.

Daenerys smiled as if she was about to do them all a kindness. “We have a perfect solution here. Ser Gerion will be the Lannister who provides a tie to House Stark.”

She took Sansa’s hand and snatched at Jaime’s hand and put them together. “As your queen I command a marriage alliance between Stark and Lannister.”

Brienne felt a dark wave of despair wash over her. She pictured herself sworn to Lady Sansa. Surely Jaime would come to love the beautiful kind Lady Sansa and it would be her task to guard them. But would Sansa love him? _Not, if what Jaime said has any truth to it._ Her eyes met Sansa’s. _Do not despair_ , her lady’s eyes seemed to say. Jaime was clearly at a loss.

“Surely we have better things to do than to talk about marriage with the enemy at our gates,” Jon said. Brienne shot him a grateful look. His mouth was set in a downward curve that gave him a very melancholy look.

Sansa gazed downwards at her feet, and blushed prettily.

“Your grace, I thank you so much for your concern. This is not a decision that should be made rashly nor without the involvement of the Northern Lords. We can agree to discuss this again, when Ser Gerion returns.”

“Alliances are best made as quickly as possible with war upon us,” Daenerys said. “We will discuss this in Council tomorrow.”

Sansa curtsied so deep, that her face was not visible.

“I am sure, Lady Sansa, you will think of a way of how to make the Northern Lords agree. They eat out of your hand anyway.”

She turned and gave Jon a meaningful look. “I shall retire to my chambers. I guess, now we know Lord Gerion is here, he can share his chamber with Tyrion, at least until you two are properly married.”

And with a flurry of her skirts she left the room, the Unsullied trailing after her. Lord Tyrion made as if to follow her, but Sansa held him back and bent down to whisper in his ear.

“I trust my lord Tyrion to remember when the time comes that I saved him and his brother today.”

Tyrion nodded.

“Will you come?”, he asked his brother, “or will you share your betrothed chambers?”

Tyrion looked at the flustered Jon Snow who had grabbed the hilt of his sword again.

“I’ll join you shortly.” Jaime answered.

There was silence for a long time, when the door had closed. Brienne could hear them all breathe.

“I’ll kill her,” Arya finally said. “How dare she command you to marry.”

“There is no need.”, Sansa shook her head. “We’ll manage that without violence. Remember we still need the dragons.”

“Brienne,” Sansa turned to her. “What hindrances exist for a marriage?”

Brienne felt herself blush. “A couple may not marry, if they are related too closely or if one of them is already married.”

Sansa smiled and turned to Jaime.

“If I understood you correctly you are willing to pledge yourself to our cause.”

Jaime nodded. “You are my last chance at honour.”

“Tomorrow, if we cannot deflect this question otherwise, you’ll confess that you are already married to Brienne of Tarth whom you grew to love while you were injured, and she cared for you.”

“Lady Sansa, you cannot be serious.” Brienne protested.

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”, Sansa asked. “It didn’t happen here, but on your journeys, but we wouldn’t need to elaborate. Most importantly, Daenerys cannot make him marry me against both our wishes.”

Brienne stole a look at Jaime and became flustered when she realised that he stared directly at her.

“But, why should he wish to marry me?”

Sansa laughed. “Because he loves you, he told me so himself, and you love him.”

“I never said anything on the matter,” she protested vehemently.

“You didn’t need to,” Arya interfered. “It was quite obvious every time, the subject of Jaime….”, she caught herself, “…Gerion Lannister came up.”

“Do you truly think, she fell for that Gerion lie?” Jon asked.

“We’d better stick to Gerion in any case.” Sansa answered.

“Ser Gerion,” she addressed Jaime. “I apologize that I have to ask this of a man who still struggles with his injuries. But it would be good, if you could get up, leave my chambers and proceed to get a secret marriage to my trusted lady knight.”

Jaime grinned, _he grinned!_ He stood up slowly. “As you wish, Lady Sansa, it is my pleasure.”

Brienne was still in a daze when he reached her and took her hand with his left. His hand felt warm on hers, but it helped nothing to lift the daze.

“Arya, they need a witness, please accompany them.”

Before they left, Sansa addressed Jaime one more time.

“Ser Gerion,” she called, “do your bride a favour and find something else than your shift to marry in.”


	8. Sansa II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon make plans for all eventualities, they also discuss their feelings, finally....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the first of my fics, where I finally reach the point where Jon and Sansa admit their feelings. But I have so many headcanons about that, that it was fun to finally reach the point to write out one of them.

When the door closed behind Jaime, Arya and Brienne, Sansa let herself fall on her chair. She looked at her hands and saw with surprise that they were steady. _I would have bet they were shaking._

She covered her face with her hands. She wanted to cry with relief, she wanted to laugh for sorrow, she barely knew what to feel. _I hope Brienne is not mad at me for pushing them._

“Sansa,” she heard Jon’s voice. “Are you crying?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m all in knots.”

She lowered her hands and saw Jon kneeling in front of her. She could feel tears running down her cheeks and she bubbled with laughter.

Jon smiled at her, somewhat shakily and unsure. “Why do you laugh?”

“I’m just glad that I remembered my lessons about the history of House Lannister at the right moment. That was a close call. Good that everybody jumped into the breach as well.”

She shook her head. “I swear the woman has no manners, barging into my chambers like that.”

Jon laughed awkwardly. “I also barged into your chambers.”

Sansa felt called out and felt the blood rushing into her cheeks and the tears welling up.

Jon pressed her hand.

“And why do you cry?”

_Why is he so nice?_

“You know now, I don’t know how, but Jaime looked right through me,” she almost wailed.

“Looked right through you?”

She covered her face with her hands again. “That I am like Cersei,” she whispered.

Jon gently took her hands again. “You are not like Cersei. Not in any way that matters.”

“But…”

“Sansa,” he whispered. “There is something very important, I have to tell you. I should have told you days ago, when I first learned the truth, but I feared what it would mean for us. What would happen if you knew the truth.”

“For us?” Her heart skipped a beat. _Is Jaime right? Does he feel the same? What did he call it? Messy love?_

Jon fetched a chair and sat beside Sansa. “I barely know where to start.”

“Perhaps at the beginning?” Sansa suggested smiling through tears.

 “I’m not your brother, Sansa, and since I’m free to tell you this now, let me start with this.”

Sansa forgot to breathe. Her tears dried on her cheeks.

Jon pressed her hand. “I love you. I love you with all my heart. I love you with every fibre of my sorry self. And for a long time, I thought that I should fight it, but I’m done with fighting. I would wish nothing more than to marry you.”

“You are not my brother?”. Her own voice sounded strange to her ears.

“Your father lied for years to protect me. I am the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.”

Sansa’s head reeled. “You’re my cousin, not my brother. You’re my cousin.”

Jon nodded.

Sansa couldn’t help herself. She giggled and slapped her forehead.

“Father hid you right under everybody’s noses. He lied with a straight face!”

It took her a while to compose herself. Jon let her calm down from her giggling fits.

Then it hit her. “You love me,” she said, joy blooming in her heart.

She threw her arms around him “O Jon. I can love you!”

Her lips searched his, but he also tried to kiss her and their first attempt at a kiss had Sansa giggling again she didn’t know why.

The second time was far better. Jon’s lips felt smooth and soft to her lips, his beard slightly tickling her, and when his tongue first stroked over her lips, her heart beat so fast she thought she would burst. Boldly she opened her mouth, and his tongue slipped in and she felt as if her blood was wine that ran through her veins to intoxicate her until she knew no longer who she was. She was a woman kissing the man she loved and that was all she needed to know.

It struck her suddenly like lightning. Seemingly her mind had worked on his own while she was preoccupied. She broke their kiss.

“Legitimate, you said?”

Jon nodded.

“O gods, Daenerys is going to kill you.” Fear gripped at her heart.

“I guess you could tell her, I am your lost cousin Duncan Stark.”

Sansa punched him playfully.

“Jon, this is serious. She is not going to like that.”

“That is why I told Bran and Sam to stay quiet about this.”

“Does anybody else know?”

Jon shook his head.

Now that her brain was functioning again, she saw the problems.

“The Lords will not like you being a Targaryen.”

“No, they won’t.”

“And that is why you told me you never had a claim to Winterfell.”

Jon nodded.

“So the Lords will grumble, because they don’t want a Targaryen connected to Winterfell. And some will probably try to pit us against each other, because my claim to sole rule over Winterfell is better now.”

She grimaced. “And Daenerys will be angry and frightened because you have a better claim to the throne. Some of the Northern Lords might even support you over her when they have a choice. They do not love her.”

Jon snorted. “That is put nicely. They hate her. To be fair, she has no idea how to behave here.”

Sansa shrugged. “She could make an effort to learn, but instead she makes fun of our backward ways.”

Her eyes widened. “The Lannisters might choose to back you before her. Is this why you wanted me to reach out to them.”

“I want you to have every support you can get. Remember, I had no idea, Jaime, I mean Gerion, was hiding here in Winterfell.”

“And if we don’t tell about you being legitimate? You could be Rhaegar’s bastard? We could still openly love each other. You would still be my cousin, not my brother.”

“Sansa, being Rhaegar’s bastard would not change anything.”

Sansa hung her head. “The Northern Lords made you their king despite being a bastard. Daenerys would see you as a threat in any case.”

“So, we are cousins and can love each other, but we can’t tell anybody, because it could mean that the Northern Lords who only reluctantly still accept you because of the White Walkers could defect or Daenerys tries to kill you because your claim is better…”.

She sighed, suddenly feeling beaten because of all their problems “…or both.”

“I do think Daenerys is more of a problem. The Lords grudgingly accepted me again, when you backed me. As long as you support me, they’ll be fine.”

He smiled. “You don’t plan on offing me, do you?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Now, don’t you start. I have been through this with Arya, when you were away.”

“What?” Jon was startled.

“As you would probably know, if Arya had not decided to dodge talking to you.”

She touched his arm and took his hand in hers. It felt so good. “It’s o.k. We’ve worked it out. I don’t know what I would do without Arya or Brienne.”

For a while they sat in silence and Jon just caressed her hand in a way that set shivers down Sansa’s spine. She leaned in for another kiss, and let their troubles fall away. Sansa’s thoughts happily hid away, and she relished the moment, Jon’s soft lips, the feeling of being loved, cherished, his tenderness was setting her aflame.

This time it was Jon who pulled away.

“Seven hells,” he cursed.

“What is it?”

“Do you think Daenerys might insist on a marriage with a Lannister even if Jaime, I mean Gerion, has married Brienne?”

Sansa felt dread creep up her spine. “You mean, would she insist that I marry Tyrion again?”

“I wouldn’t put it beyond her. She has been bringing this up, now and then. I suspect she fears your influence. She cannot understand this, and she wants you safely married to her advisor.”

“We can always put this off until after the war. Tyrion does not seem to eager to remarry me.”

“But he won’t set himself against Daenerys. His only chance to get the Rock is through her.”

“So, what do we do?”

“I have an idea,” Jon said. He leaned forward to kiss her again, but Sansa stopped him and laid her fingers on his lips. She was briefly distracted by the thought how soft his lips were.

“We have to find a solution. And I can’t find a solution while being kissed.”

Jon kissed her fingers. “Are you distracted by me?” His lips curved.

“Jon!”

“We should be prepared for any outcome. I really have an idea.”

He went down on his knees. “Sansa, do you love me?”

“Jon, be serious, we have to work this out. I don’t want to marry on Daenerys’ whims just because she has dragons.”

“Will you marry me?”

Sansa felt her annoyance rise. She remembered how they had fought the night before the Battle of Winterfell and her cheeks began to burn.

“Jon! We have established, that we can’t tell anybody about your parents. How could we marry?”

“A secret marriage, just in case. I protect you from marrying Tyrion and you protect me from being kicked out by the Northern Lords. Nobody needs to know, and we don’t make it public unless it is necessary.”

“So, it would just be like the hidden dragon in a cyvasse game. We only move this piece, if we need to.”

“Please, say yes.”

“What are your plans for after the war?”

“I don’t know. I think, I just want some happiness before I die.”

“Here you talk about dying again. Don’t do this to me.” Sansa pleaded.

“My wish would be to return to you if we defeat the White Walkers, but I suggest we’ll decide what to do, if we get there.”

Sansa took his hand and raised him up. “Oh Jon, we talk about death and disaster, and still… I am so happy.”

“I was so disgusted with myself, I thought I could only ever love your from afar.”

“So, did I.”

They looked into each other’s eyes, and kissed again, and again, not as deep as before, tiny tender nibbles at their lips.

“Are you going to steal me the wildling way?”, Sansa teased him.

“We need witnesses. And Bran and Sam know already.”

“Bran is going to have a fit.”

Jon shook his head. “Nothing phases Bran any longer, I’d say.”

“We have to tell Arya.” Sansa insisted.

“ **She** is going to have a fit.”

“Nevertheless, I want Arya’s back in this. If anybody can protect you from Daenerys it will be her.”

“She doesn’t talk to me.” Jon objected.

“Believe me, Jon, she deeply regrets that, but if we do this secretly, she will be angry, and rightly so.”

Jon nodded.

“What are you waiting for, then? Let’s gather the witnesses and we start with Arya.”

“And then we prepare the lords for the council meeting tomorrow.”

Before they left the room, Sansa blew out the candles, her steps were springy, and her heart was filled with love and hope. It was as if she remembered the smell of flowers.


	9. Arya II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The council and the Northern Lords discuss marriage plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DarkDany or even more so CluelessDany. Don't like, don't read.

Daenerys had called a great council into the hall to discuss “urgent business” of the North with lords and ladies alike, and Arya was the first to arrive. She had agreed to be the one to bring Bran and she pushed his wheeled chair into the hall. She felt strangely disconnected with the world, almost as if she was wearing a face. Not enough, that she had witnessed one secret wedding, no it had been two. No girl could sleep after that. Apart from the fact that both marriages were cases of political necessity, the couples had seemed to be happy.

Arya shook her head. _Must be the fact that people make such a fuss about marriages._ Arya would not have thought, that Brienne could actually glow, and Jaime _no, Gerion Lannister_ had sported a look of overwhelmed amazement. Sansa and Jon had smiled the whole time. It was ridiculous really. _Jon will be good to Sansa though_.

Still, she wondered how odd it all was. She reluctantly admitted to herself, that Jon and Sansa would probably run Winterfell together very efficiently. Bran was unphased by both marriages. _What did he mean: ‘It was bound to happen’?_ Arya felt she did not understand her brother at all.

There was one good thing about that secret marriage though. She had finally talked with Jon again. She had been silent for so long that she hadn’t known how to get out of her accusatory mood. Necessity had brought them together again, and Arya was glad about it. _I may need to learn how to get around to reconcile earlier._ With regret she remembered the quarrel Sansa and she had while Jon was absent.

Jaime, _no Gerion_ , was one of the first to arrive. Brienne was behind him. He was about to leave again, when he saw Bran, but Brienne nudged him. He then came over to them and greeted Bran.

“Lord Stark, or should I say Lord Raven.”

Bran gestured to him to sit down. His face showed no emotions but the glance he gave the Kingslayer was sharp and alert.

“Lord Gerion,” he said. “Bran is sufficient. My sister told me that she came to an understanding with you.”

Jaime cleared his throat. “I don’t know if this is to your liking.”

“Very often, Lord Gerion, things do not go according to our liking. I would have liked to walk and run and be a knight, but now I see and understand, and I plan. You probably would have liked to still have a sword hand.”

Arya was startled to see how intense Bran’s eyes bored into Jaime’s. Jaime was uneasy.

“It is as it is. We don’t make peace with our friends, but with our enemies. And though I might have reason to dislike Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister is dead, isn’t he?”

Jaime swallowed. “It looks like that.”

“Jaime Lannister and the sins he did to hide the unholy union with his sister are dead. And he will stay dead. As will the Lannister legacy. You will build a new one Ser Gerion, leave it all behind, the machinations, the power moves, everything. If you do not, you’ll be soon as dead as the Kingslayer.”

Jaime stayed silent, processing what Bran had said.

“And know this Ser Gerion, this is not a threat, but a foretelling.”

Then Bran smiled, a real smile, that was such a rare sight on him that Arya flinched. Bran extended his hand, and Jaime took it with a look of awe on his face.

“You will have help,” Bran said gesturing to Brienne.

Bran pulled Ser Jaime close with surprising strength.

“There is only one piece of knowledge that Jaime Lannister had, that might come in useful in the future. As far as I know he is the only person that confronted a dragon and at least survived for a while to tell the tale.”

Jaime stared at Bran.

“Surprising as it may sound, considering that I travelled for years in Essos and then was at Castle Black, my nephew managed to give me this information.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” Bran said.

The Hall filled. Sansa and Jon entered together, and Arya wondered briefly, if they had stayed in Sansa’s chamber. _I don’t want to know. I don’t even want to think about it._ She shoved the thought away.

Daenerys arrived with a small following as usual. She sat at the head of the table, straightening her back, so that she would be as tall as she could get. Two Dothraki stood behind her, Ser Jorah was at her side as always. Arya turned to Lyanna Mormont and saw her scowling. _I wonder if she will ever stop to give her uncle the “you are a disgrace” treatment._

Sansa introduced “Gerion” Lannister with a straight face to every Lord. And although this introduction should have raised a few eyebrows, none of the lords even cleared his throat at the sight of Jaime Lannister. At first Arya thought, that the reason must be Bran sitting beside Jaime. It was a credit to how much they trusted House Stark, that they did not balk.

It was only when Lyanna Mormont whispered “I trust you to steer us through this, Lady Sansa,” that she realised what Jon and Sansa probably had done during the night. All the Lords were already in the know at least about Jaime, and that was the reason why they were unperturbed.

Arya concentrated on seeming to be at ease, but she had her dagger ready, just in case anyone tried something stupid.

When all were seated, Missandei raised her voice and started the recital of Daenerys titles, and Arya reached for her dagger, and started fiddling and twirling the dagger, counting the twirls until Missandei had finished. _Such a waste of time. And by now nobody is impressed any longer, they are all just bored._

With a gracious nod, Daenerys allowed the ‘dear Lady Sansa’ to explain the presence of Gerion Lannister. Sansa told the whole story, crisp and to the point. Arya nodded in approval. _A good straight lie, not too flourished._

At the mention of Castle Black Lord Glover made a very strange noise and Lord Cerwyn began to cough straight out, when Sansa mentioned the prophecy of Pate the Wise. Otherwise none of the Northern Lords contradicted Sansa’s tale. They carefully nodded, when she told them of the plan to send Gerion Lannister to the Riverlands to collect the remaining Lannister armies. _Of course they would. They trust her judgement._

Daenerys herself was prepared for the council as well. It was not herself, but Ser Jorah who suggested a marriage between Stark and Lannister. _She probably thinks it’s clever. She doesn’t realise how much the Northern Lords despise him._

“You can’t be serious”, Lady Lyanna protested. “We cannot possible let a Stark marry a Lannister.” Arya smiled. _She would have spoken against her uncle anyway._ But others grumbled as well.

Daenerys was angry about the objections and was about to say something, when Jon raised his hand and the Lords fell silent.

“Your grace,” he turned to Daenerys. “Surely, we don’t need to make rash decisions in this time of war. When Gerion Lannister returns with the troops from the Riverlands, and we all survive, then would be the time to fasten this alliance with a marriage.”

“And how would you ensure his loyalty, Lord Snow?” Daenerys asked, angry that he was speaking against her.

“I’m sure, Ser Gerion is willing to swear an oath.” Jon said.

“And you would believe him?”, Daenerys insisted.

“Of course, we would, Ser Gerion knows what is at stake. And we would send trustworthy people with him,“ Sansa said.

“Trustworthy people?”

“Lord Royce from the Vale is known throughout Westeros for his honour and Brienne of Tarth has been my trusted envoy on several occasions already.” Sansa’s smile was sweet, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Arya made a quick assessment of the table. Bran was silent, even for him. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be deep in thought, but otherwise the tension was thick.

“The Targaryens of old made their lords come together more closely by marriage. We agreed that we must fight together to defeat the Night King. I insist that we need a Lannister married to a Stark.”

“I do not see the connection between our war for the living with the necessity of a marriage alliance.” Lyanna Mormont protested. “We can fight unmarried, your grace.”

Arya suppressed a smile.

Daenerys narrowed her eyes. “Would you not say, that we need to plan for the future? The bands we tie now will serve us well for the future of our realm.”

“Your grace,” Jaime interjected. “I might not be the best choice for a strong tie. I am only a younger son. I could not offer a bride much more than my name, which is not as good as it once was.”

“That is exactly, why you are a good choice. Lady Sansa would not have to leave Winterfell.”

She turned to Jon. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? You told me, you did not want to renew the marriage of Lady Sansa to my Hand, because you did not want your sister to leave her home.”

She was agitated. “Or is there another reason you don’t want your sister married? Do you want to have her close?” She was lashing out, but that hit close to the mark.

Jon’s face took on a vivid shade of red. “Lady Sansa is my most trusted advisor,” he said. His voice was low-pitched, almost a wolf’s growl, that betrayed Jon’s tight grip on his anger.

“I insist to have a say in who Sansa marries. You tell me, you don’t want to steal Winterfell from your siblings. But the crown cannot allow for a seat like Winterfell to be ruled unchecked. The crown always had a say in who heiresses marry.”

The murmur of the Lords grew louder and louder. Jaime Lannister rose.

“Your grace, I cannot and will not partake in your plans.”

Daenerys stood and screamed. “You’re are living because of my lenience. You’ve told me you would accept me.”

He bowed his head. “And I am grateful for your clemency. But I am a married man. I cannot marry Lady Sansa.”

“What?” Lord Tyrion and Daenerys exclaimed at the same time.

“Lady Brienne of Tarth is my wife.”

“You didn’t tell me yesterday, you were married!”

Jaime bowed again. “Your grace, you didn’t ask. As Brienne is sworn to Lady Sansa, I do think this gives me a close enough tie to the Starks.” He sat down again.

Daenerys stood for a moment, her face red. She rounded on Tyrion. “Did you know this?”

“No, your grace,” he said, his face pale.

She sat down, her face dignified again. Arya would have admired her pluck if she didn’t tend to use it to override people’s wishes.

“Did you know Ser Gerion was already married,” she wanted to know from Sansa.

“I am as surprised as you, my Queen. As of yesterday, I had no idea they were married. If they became close while Ser Gerion was healing from his wounds, I am grateful, he was honourable enough to marry her. But they certainly should have told me.”

Arya quickly looked down at her lap. _She has become so good at this._

“Lord Snow, although you do not wish it, we should resume our original plan to renew the marriage of my Hand and your sister.”

Arya shot a look at Tyrion. She fiddled with her dagger and threw it from one hand to the other, letting it dance in her hands.

“Your grace,” Tyrion said. “I would advise against that. It isn’t even in your best interest, to have the heir of Lannister and the heiress of Stark married to each other.”

“You could marry Arya then.”

Tyrion was at a loss of words, while the lords began to grumble again.

Arya began to clean her nails with her dagger. “This is no option, your grace.”

“For what reason?”

“This. You could not possible put a dragon in a wedding chamber and if you marry Lord Tyrion to me you would be short a hand.” Arya was extra careful to put no warmth into the smile she gave the queen.

Bran twitched, his eyes opened, as if he woke from a reverie.

“If we really need a Stark-Lannister marriage so badly, I could always marry Cersei,” he said.

Daenerys stared at him.

“She might be a bit old, but she is beautiful. You know, I do feel a bit offended that you are all discussing marriages of Sansa and Arya while I am sitting right here.”

Arya failed to contain her snigger. The look of utter surprise on Jaime’s face was too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one of my headcanons, that I fit into this fic: Jaime proclaiming his love in public.


	10. Jon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This assembly in the great hall will go down into history as the meeting with many surprises. A secret comes out into the open and decisions have to be made very quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is the chapter with the character death... I must admit, that it was huge fun to write. I didn't even know I had it in me, to be that nasty to a fictional character.

Thanks to Bran this council meeting might have gone down into history as the meeting that was full of marriage planning and ended in laughter. Jon looked at his cousin and for the tiniest of moments he saw his eyelids twitch as if he winked, but otherwise he was the only one who had not succumbed to laughter, well he and Daenerys. _Bran gave you an opening, Daenerys. Laugh, laugh and make them forget that you tried to impose your will on everybody_.

But she did not listen to his unspoken advice. He could see that she was simmering with anger and he asked himself again, what he would do, if it came down to a fight. He had made his decision, but he had not yet lost all hope of coming out of this mess without the need to position himself against his aunt.

The door of the great Hall was flung open and Sam barged in. In his left hand, he held a scroll, in his right hand, he wielded an enormous blade. Gilly ran after him, the burning torches at the door enlightening them both with red flickers. Sam ran as fast as Jon had ever seen him run, he was screaming at the top of his lungs as angry as a bull.

The laughter died, but everybody was slow to react. Sam jumped on the table and swung the sword at Daenerys and only Ser Jorah was fast enough to block the enormous sword from descending on the Queen’s head.

Jon was on his feet in an instant.

“Sam, what are you doing?”

Sam made very ferocious if clumsy attempts to get passed Ser Jorah.

“You killed my father, you killed my little brother, you burned them alive! They were taken prisoner and you burned them alive!”

It was no use, Ser Jorah was much better and before long Sam was cornered by Daenerys guards and disarmed.

Ser Jorah put his sword at Sam’s throat. “I owe you my life, Samwell Tarly, but you cannot touch the Queen.”

“Burned them alive?” that was Lord Royce…. The merry mood had evaporated in an instant and the lords were soon shouting on the top of their lungs. “Dragons,” Jon heard, “Burned alive”, and “the mad queen’s daughter”.

_Sam’s father? Sam’s baby brother? Dickon? Burned alive?_

Sam was shaking from head to toe. There were tears on his cheeks and his eyes sought Jon’s.

“Did you know? Did you know that she burned my family?”

Jon shook his head, he felt numb. _Sam’s brother. She burned Sam’s brother. And I bade him to stay silent._

Sam searched Jon’s face, and some of his agitation seemed to ebb away.

“You attacked the Queen. You are guilty of high treason.”

One of the Queen’s guards swung his arakh and Jon heard Sansa gasp and Gilly scream. He snatched at Longclaw himself, but Arya was fastest. She had swung that dagger of hers and cut off the hand with the arakh. The man screamed. The other guard rounded on Arya, but Jon and Brienne jumped him simultaneously, and Brienne took his arakh. Lord Royce held the other Dothraki who had tried to reach his weapon with the hand that was left. Ser Jorah stood alone his sword in front of his queen. Sweat ran down his face.

“Khaleesi get behind me.”

“How dare you?” Daenerys shouted. “I am your rightful Queen, I am the mother of dragons, you will pay for this treason with your life. I will burn you like I burned your father and brother.”

“You are not the rightful Queen, you are nobody’s rightful queen”, Sam shouted back.

“Sam, no!” Jon tried to interrupt him, but it was too late.

“Here is the heir to the Iron Throne,” Sam pointed at Jon. “He is not Jon Snow, he is Aegon, legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. And I know that **he** does not burn people alive. He did not want me to tell anybody, because he thinks of his people first. If you want to have me killed, do it, but know that you have no right to my loyalty.”

All eyes suddenly were on Jon. _Sam, o Sam!_ He was not prepared. _We’re in the middle of a war. Sam, o Sam! She’ll never forgive me for that! The dragons. I am not prepared to do this._

Sansa stood up and walked the few steps to stand beside him all in silence. She took his left hand, Longclaw was still in his right.

Into the silence, Jon heard Bran’s voice as if he was far away, in another room perhaps.

“I told you Jon, that the truth would come out eventually.”

_But not now, not now, not before we even know what has happened at the Wall!_

Lyanna Mormont stood up. “I stand with Maester Samwell. I’ve been fed up with this tyranny since Daenerys came here. I doubt that you would burn all of us.” Lord Royce followed Lyanna’s example and several of the other lords stood.

Jon had no idea what to do, he looked at his own hand, the hand Sansa had raised. The silence stretched on and tricked his ear into ringing with a noise that was not there.

“House Stark stands with Aegon, Lyanna’s son who was raised by Ned Stark!”.

Arya raised her dagger. “Aegon,” she called.

“Aegon” Sam shouted. “Lyanna’s son!”

Tyrion Lannister of all people stood up. “Aegon!”

Brienne had taken Bran into her arms to raise him. It all became a blur to Jon afterwards, the voices merged in his ears to a loud storm that threatened to carry him away if it had not been for Sansa’s hand in his, warm and reassuring, an anchor to hold him.

When the shouting had died down, Daenerys stood up. She glared at the people she had trusted, Tyrion, Missandei. Her voice was cold, her face a barely contained storm.

“You wanted to use me against the enemy, all the while plotting to get the Throne for yourself. Traitor! Do you think I would step aside for my brother’s bastard, sired in a pig sty on a Northern whore? You are not a Targaryen. I have the true blood of Valyria. I am the mother of dragons. You all will rue this day, when I come for you with fire and blood. Or maybe I should just let your enemy take you. You seem to have forgotten, that I have the dragons.”

The excitement died down.

“Do you?” Bran said. His voice rang in the silence of the hall.

“You are just a cripple, what do you know of dragons.”

Bran smiled. “I might be a cripple, but I am also of the blood of the First men. I am a warg.”

From outside, they all heard a roar that was so loud it shook the glasses on the table.

Daenerys paled.

“I might be the strongest warg in the history of the North. Dragons are beasts. It was not very difficult to subdue them to my will.”

“That is not possible,” Daenerys said. “The blood of Valyria….”

“I wouldn’t advise you to try to take them back. They are quite accustomed to me by now.”

Another roar, this time from two dragons. It sounded as if they were just above the hall.

“If it comes down to Jon or you, the choice is easy for me, Daenerys”, Bran said. “I give you a choice.”

Daenerys stood as if hit.

“Bend the knee or die, Daenerys. How does it feel to have these as your only available options?”

Jon often wondered later, if Daenerys would have yielded eventually. With every eye upon her and awaiting her decision, nobody paid attention to Jorah Mormont. He sprang forward, his sword readied, aiming for Bran.

“Khaleesi, run! Take Drogon!”

Daenerys turned, running for the door that still stood open, framed in the flames of the torches.

Jaime Lannister felled Jorah, hurling his body at him and toppling him over, Brienne stepped on his arm with the sword.

Nobody tried to hinder Daenerys on her run.

They heard her shouting for Drogon, shouting about betrayal, swearing vengeance. Bran slumped in his chair, his eyes suddenly white.

Jon shuddered when he heard the dragons roar a third time, almost droning out Daenerys’ screams.

Bran opened his eyes again.

“I warned her,” his voice was sad.

He looked at Jon. “You know, when you made no attempt to tame the dragons, I had to do something.”

His cousin shrugged. “Rhaegar’s blood would probably have worked for you, but sometimes the obvious answers are wrong.”

 

 

Epilogue:

They had another wedding, just after the Night King was defeated. This time it was a grand occasion. They grieved for their dead, but they were also happy. Gerion, the Dragonslayer as people called him – who did refuse to retake his old name, although there was no further need for deceit – scandalized everybody by dancing only with his wife, Tyrion drank himself into oblivion, Bran and Samwell sat in a corner and talked animatedly on a chronicle they wanted to write, and Sansa, Sansa looked radiant. Jon on the other hand looked as if he wondered how he had become the bridegroom. Arya teased him about his silly face the whole evening.


End file.
